<?php
/**
 * <https://y.st./>
 * Copyright © 2017 Alex Yst <mailto:copyright@y.st>
 * 
 * This program is free software: you can redistribute it and/or modify
 * it under the terms of the GNU General Public License as published by
 * the Free Software Foundation, either version 3 of the License, or
 * (at your option) any later version.
 * 
 * This program is distributed in the hope that it will be useful,
 * but WITHOUT ANY WARRANTY; without even the implied warranty of
 * MERCHANTABILITY or FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE. See the
 * GNU General Public License for more details.
 * 
 * You should have received a copy of the GNU General Public License
 * along with this program. If not, see <https://www.gnu.org./licenses/>.
**/

$xhtml = array(
	'<{title}>' => 'I, Alex Yst, am a mutant freak!',
	'<{body}>' => <<<END
<section id="general">
	<h2>General news</h2>
	<p>
		I wasn&apos;t really feeling like working on database-related studies today, though in theory, I was supposed to work on my database-related reading assignment today.
		Additionally, I had work today, but not work tomorrow or the next day, so I kind of wanted to work on some programming homework before heading in.
		That way, I&apos;d be using what programming opportunity I have to level myself out on the day I&apos;m going to be interacting with more people.
	</p>
	<p>
		I didn&apos;t get super far though, and ended up working on cleaning out my closet instead.
		That was probably a bad idea for today, but whatever.
		I&apos;ve got a wide array of clothing, but much of it doesn&apos;t really suit me.
		Various people have given me clothing as gifts over the years and I simply never threw any of it out unless it got too worn or otherwise damaged.
		Of course, only the clothing I actually <strong>*like*</strong> ended up in bad shape, as the rest just sat there unused.
		I&apos;ve never been a fan of plaid, and under most circumstances, I outright refuse to wear it.
		Stripes aren&apos;t my thing, but they&apos;re okay I guess.
		They&apos;re not something I would choose.
		I prefer solid colours or intricate patterns.
		A plain, dark blue is nice, as is anything floral or interesting-looking.
		I kept one striped shirt in which the stripes were in the texture of the fabric, not the colour, but otherwise removed anything striped or plaid.
		I&apos;ll probably leave that clothing in the laundry room later for one of my neighbours to take if they want it.
		I&apos;ve actually got so many shirts though that even with what I&apos;ve removed, I won&apos;t need to go clothing shopping for a while.
		I wore almost none of the stuff I&apos;m getting rid of anyway.
	</p>
	<p>
		The card from Chase arrived in the mail today.
		It&apos;s actually under the correct name!
		However, the website is acting up, so I can&apos;t log in right now to see if they updated the actual name on the account or not.
	</p>
	<p>
		My <a href="/a/canary.txt">canary</a> still sings the tune of freedom and transparency.
	</p>
</section>
<section id="mental">
	<h2>Mental health watch</h2>
	<p>
		I couldn&apos;t resist; this morning, I did a bit or research to try to figure out why I&apos;m gay.
		I mean, honestly, I&apos;d rather be gay than straight, but why am I like this?
		It turns out I&apos;m probably a mutant freak and that my brain&apos;s probably deformed.
		Huh.
		It seems that gay people of either sex have physical differences in their brains that are different than those of straight people.
		Men and women have different brain structures, but gay people have brains that in some ways resemble men&apos;s brains, but in other ways, resemble women&apos;s brains.
		It results in the person not having a problem with their body type, but still being attracted to others of the same body type.
		I wonder too if this hodgepodge in my head is why I don&apos;t want a female genitalia but also don&apos;t like having testicles (the rest of my male parts are fine).
		Then again, I only really dislike my testicles when they&apos;re getting in the way, so maybe it&apos;s just a matter of practicality.
	</p>
	<p>
		It&apos;s worth noting that when I say &quot;mutant freak&quot;, it sounds like a bad thing, but I don&apos;t actually <strong>*mean*</strong> it as a bad thing.
		I&apos;ve always actually <strong>*wanted*</strong> to be a mutant freak.
		I mean, I never wanted to be gay or anything (I wanted to remain asexual), but for as long as I can remember, I&apos;ve wanted a physical difference from other people.
		My top two choices were always an extra finger and heterochromia.
		I still actually think it&apos;d be pretty sweet to have either or even both of those deformities.
		Factory defects that don&apos;t get in the way of functionality are fun.
		I&apos;m not going to do it, but I wonder if there&apos;s a way to have one of my eyes dyed brown ...
	</p>
	<p>
		Learning that there&apos;s a brain difference, I wondered about transgendered people.
		Do they have brains that are less of the hodgepodge mine is, and more like those of the opposite sex?
		I couldn&apos;t find the answer online, but I found other things: more signs I might be trans.
		Some of the more obvious signs are that my birth name always felt like the wrong name for me, I&apos;ve always hated my appearance, and I&apos;ve avoided cameras my whole life.
		I also find a small delight when people mistake me for the opposite sex (which has happened more than you&apos;d think, given my build, but still not too often).
		I think though that that delight actually comes from the break I get from being thought of as a man.
		I feel like something in-between (and it seems that as a gay person, I am), and I&apos;d like not to be boxed in one way or the other.
		As for the name, it&apos;s mixed bag, that again, doesn&apos;t point directly to being transgender.
		For example, though I didn&apos;t write in in my journal at the time, I was thinking about different names during the transition process.
		After already filing the initial paperwork, I sort of grew attached to the name &quot;Alexander Yst&quot; for a bit.
		And at this point, I really like the name &quot;Lexi&quot;.
		I&apos;m convinced I made the right choice choosing to identify as Alex.
		For one, I still like that name and I feel it actually fits me, but I also like how flexible the name is.
		I can drift to whatever side of the gender line I feel like and still have the same name and a wide range of nicknames.
		In regards to my appearance, I&apos;ve actually grown to like my face more over the past while.
		I think being boxed in with a masculine haircut was really bad for me, and that with longer hair, I have the hodgepodge masculine/feminine face I need to feel like I look like me.
		I mean, people still see me as male.
		And that&apos;s fine; I still <strong>*am*</strong> technically a male.
		I want to grow my hair out a bit more before I really submit to any photographs, but I think I&apos;ll loosen up a bit as my hair grows.
	</p>
	<p>
		At work, I thought more on my freakdom, and I came to some interesting conclusions.
		First, the raising of children androgynously.
		Previously, I thought that children should be raised without any difference between sexes until they displayed signs of their gender.
		That is, though you know the sex of the child, you don&apos;t assume the child&apos;s gender until there&apos;s actual evidence of the gender.
		However, there&apos;s no reason for that.
		We that don&apos;t conform to gender norms are mutants.
		You can&apos;t (or rather, shouldn&apos;t) raise your child assuming that they might be a mutant until you see actual evidence that they might be one.
		Second, I&apos;m allowed to experience life differently than other people; I&apos;m not like them.
		Understanding that I&apos;m probably a mutant freak is actually quite liberating; this brain anomaly is probably a better mutation than any that I&apos;d wished for in the past.
		I said before that I&apos;m not ashamed to be gay, though I&apos;m not sure it&apos;s something to be proud of.
		However, maybe I can be proud after all.
		I, Alex Yst, am a mutant freak!
		I&apos;m not bound by stupid societal norms that make no sense, but are written into the $a[DNA] of most people.
		I&apos;m still constrained to whatever it is that I am, but I&apos;m different, I&apos;m interesting, and I have a different view of the world.
		The vast majority of the world will never see what I see.
		They&apos;re the ones missing out; I&apos;m forced to see a lot of what they naturally see, so I actually see more total then they ever will.
		My mother, as a child, denied my feelings.
		She claimed that I didn&apos;t feel the way I&apos;d tell her I did, as if she could somehow see how I felt and I didn&apos;t understand my feelings as well as she did.
		She&apos;s an ignorant fool.
		Perhaps most people don&apos;t feel like me, but my feelings exist end they&apos;re valid.
	</p>
	<p>
		Now more than ever, I want to find my kind, and those of kinds similar to mine.
		Even if I don&apos;t find any dates (and I probably won&apos;t), it&apos;s important that I go to the pride festival and attempt to make friends.
	</p>
	<p>
		The hodgepodge in my head is probably the cause of my confusion as to who and what I am.
		I&apos;ve found some males and some females attractive, but yet, I find I have an aversion to the thought of inserting my penis into a vagina.
		There&apos;s enough male-like structure to my brain to find women attractive, but not enough to have sex with them.
		There&apos;s enough female-like brain structure though to find men and the thought of their penises attractive.
		I guess I can&apos;t be sure of any of this, but it&apos;s the best explanation I have so far.
	</p>
</section>
<section id="university">
	<h2>University life</h2>
	<p>
		Yesterday, I stopped at the credit union to pick up the cashier&apos;s cheque I need to pay the university, and today, I dropped it off at the post office to be delivered.
		It seems I got there just before they were closing though, so they sort of rushed me out.
		In fact, they didn&apos;t have time to help me at all.
		I was instructed to just leave my letter on the counter, and they&apos;d cover my postage.
		Um.
		Okay.
		I guess saving forty-nine cents is cool, but being paranoid, I&apos;d love to have seen it actually get processed.
		I fear the cheque won&apos;t get sent.
		I really need to work on my trust issues.
		The postal workers don&apos;t know what&apos;s in the envelope, so it&apos;s not like they&apos;re going to steal the cheque.
		And if they <strong>*did*</strong> know, they&apos;d know its not made out to them and they can&apos;t deposit it or cash it out.
		Still, I&apos;ll be happy to receive notification from the school that it has arrived.
	</p>
</section>
END
);
